The Haunting

In darkest corner cold and damp
A fellow sits and stares
His jacket worn too many times
His socks no longer pairs

He sits alone in silent thought
Like life just etched him so
His laces lie untied and frayed
His head bowed down so low,

A shadow forms across his face
Where once a razor drew
The greying hair a testament
To all that he's been through.

No seat has he just boarded floor
To rest upon and dwell
A punch drunk look of life and times
A living breathing hell

I look so deep into his eyes
To find what lies within
But stand in shock it's thin disguise
'Tis I sat there not him.